


keep fixing what we know is only bound to break

by Broskiro



Series: like Theseus's ship, we'll fix the busted bits [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, DAY FOUR DUDES, Day Four: Sparrow Academy, Does it make me a bad person that I was laughing the entire time Vanya was dying, F/M, Fiveya Week, For like ten minutes promise, Hurt Vanya Hargreeves, I Tried, I fucking hate Sparrow Academy Ben, Its not incest if you understand fiveya, Part five, Possessive Number Five | The Boy, Pseudo-Incest, Sorry Not Sorry, Specifically Vanya, Whoops Vanya dies, Why Did I Write This?, as an apology, but thats it, hes ugly and disgusting and heavily emo and for what, i love torturing characters, iI present another part of the rewrite, it'll all make sense when i organize it later, ok thats it, or maybe it wont, probably, problem solved, so i will be villainizing him, theres one kiss, uh, wait no she's still dead at the end, well have to wait and see, you won't be getting shit out of me until day five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broskiro/pseuds/Broskiro
Summary: Five transports them to a reality in which his hell is averted, in which his purgatory never exists. All of it, all the pain and the ache and the longing, gone, vanishing with the simple click of a case. They exist no longer, not here, not in this reality, a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. It’s funny really, how far strung on they’ve been led, pulled taut by the universe and it’s hellish plans, their constant suffering an amusing joke to their makers.The Umbrella Academy is replaced with the Sparrows, and it is another reality destined to be destroyed, another world affected by their presence._______________________The Umbrella Academy meets the Sparrows, and someone dies. Whoops.(Fiveya Week - Day Four - Sparrow Academy)
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: like Theseus's ship, we'll fix the busted bits [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995817
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	keep fixing what we know is only bound to break

**Author's Note:**

> What is up, my dudes?! By the time you're reading this, Fiveya week day four will have already been complete, but regardless, I hope you had an enjoyable day. 
> 
> I'll apologize later, just as you can hate me later.

Five transports them to a reality in which his hell is averted, in which his purgatory never exists. All of it, all the pain and the ache and the longing, _gone_ , vanishing with the simple click of a case. They exist no longer, not here, not in this reality, a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. It’s funny really, how far strung on they’ve been led, pulled taut by the universe and it’s hellish plans, their constant suffering an amusing joke to their makers.

The Umbrella Academy is replaced with the Sparrows, and it is another reality destined to be destroyed, another world affected by their presence. 

The first thing they do when they successfully jump is rejoice. — Obviously. Who wouldn’t celebrate when the end of the world itself was avoided? — Laughter pours into Vanya’s ears, voices melding together as they observe the house around them. 

April second, Five reads from the newspaper set the mahogany table, they’d made it to April second. Just a day after the apocalypse. Five looks at her as he sets down the paper, a crooked grin escaping him before he’s breaking away, heart beating wildly in his chest as they make way into the grand living area. 

Everything is exactly the same as they were children, Vanya notices; the couches, the pillow, the walls. Everything except for the portraits that hang across from them, a display of faces none of them have ever seen before. Save for _Ben’s_ \- 

_And shit,_ Vanya curses internally, staring at Ben’s portrait above the mantelpiece. Because _of course_ something is screwed in this timeline. _Of course_ more problems had to emerge. Seconds later, their father rises from a chair turned away from them, except it isn't their father. Never was their father, even if they shared the same monocle and mustache and cold look, this wasn't their father, not after what they had done in their 2019. 

He says he was waiting for them, that he knew that they’d show up eventually, and Vanya holds no doubt in his mind that the bastard was telling the truth. Luther gasps, prattling off something about being happy, about being together again. But all that festers in Vanya is unsolicited rage, welling up in her abdomen and burning in her throat. She wants to scream, or cry, or - no, not cry. Vanya’s done too much crying already, weeping over the bodies of her friend and her son, not even counting all the tears she’d shed over her undead siblings.

But staring at Reginald, at his white hair and his stupid curled mustache and that idiotic monocle —which, how did the tiny glass remain the same after what? Sixty years? —, all that plagues her are the memories of her childhood, of being locked away in a practical prison, of having her mind wiped, of being isolated by her siblings, all at the extensive hand of the same asshole guardian that stands before him. 

She wants to tear him apart, wants to kill him and then revive him and then kill him again, because then _maybe, just maybe_ he’d feel a _fraction_ of the torture she’d gone through under his parental vision. Five must’ve noticed her seething though, or maybe the thick sharpness of the air is what alerts him, leading to him leaning down to grab her hand, small compared to his large palms. He smiles at her, the awkward grin somewhat apologetic, but still understanding nonetheless. 

She sighs, letting the shaky breath escape her as she maintains eye contact. The crease in her brow is almost painful, the quiver of her lips difficult to contain. The anger ebbs away, receding every passing second as their hands stay connected. Her heart stutters, focusing in on the way Five regards her with such pure happiness, as though he’s completed the most difficult of equations, before he looks away, glaring at the man they’d called a father. Five knew just what she needed, even after all the time they'd spent apart, and for thank, Vanya is eternally grateful.

“Wrong again.” Reginald frowns in response to something Allison says, lifting his chin to whatever resides on the balcony as Vanya reenters the conversation. She’s so _confused_ , so close to imploding from the stress of it all that the words practically float by, “This is the Sparrow Academy.”

Suddenly, footsteps are approaching, rumbling within her as five figures appear on the balcony above. The sun shines brightly through the window, blocking out any unique features of these people as someone else approaches directly in front of them.

(It’s funny really, just how far Vanya’s powers allow her to hear. It’s honestly humiliating, the way she can pinpoint the exact moment dread fills her siblings, can hear the stutter in the usually rhythmic beating, listen in on things that should be kept private for the rest of eternity. They curse, hissing as a skewed version of Ben takes up space before them, a scar over his face and a cold look in his eye.)

He isn’t Ben, not their Ben at least. It’s Klaus who breaks the silence, his heart pounding so loud it overshadows her own. She wonders if Ben is still around, if Klaus can still see him after all these years, if maybe that’s why it's as though his heart is ripped out, splattered before her on a bloody platter. 

_It’s so loud,_ Vanya notices, everything is so loud and Klaus is practically screaming colorful profanities, rushing up to Sparrow Ben to hug him, shaking as they embrace. The rest follow, piling up on this universe’s Ben as Vanya stays behind, feet stuck to the marble floors. Five shoots her something like confusion, patting this reality’s Ben on the shoulder before he returns to his side.

Reginald clears his throat, calling for the remainder of the Sparrows, and as they bound down the stairs, footsteps slow and heavy, menacing and an attempt at intimidating, Vanya coils, seeing the faces of strangers that probably knew so much about them, who were probably preparing for this day under Reginald’s strict rule. 

“Let’s sit, shall we?” Reginald grins, dark and amused. The expression is new, one Vanya's never seen on her father’s — _not her father_ , she hisses, _why does she keep forgetting that? He had tortured her, made her life hell,_ He was just an asshole with enough money to purchase children, different children the second time around, and deprive them of all the things he had deprived his first seven — face, and she’s sure none of her siblings have either, with the way they shudder, a chill running down their spines. 

There's a collection of nods, Sparrow Ben scowling, such an action unfit for the person he used to be. Reginald is leading them into the kitchen, across the hall and then down the stairs, the familiar patterned walls passing by, echoing a childhood that doesn’t exist, _not here_ , but is still carried within the Umbrella Academy. Their father settles into a chair at the head of the table, steepling his fingers as he adjusts his monocle, clicking a pen as he opens a red book that haunts her childhood. 

The Sparrows take their seats, organized and controlled under their father’s watchful eye. They don’t seem nervous in the slightest, bored, actually, and Vanya watches Diego snarl, growling as he pulls a stool. Luther follows, pulling a chair from the corner, settling into it as he crosses his arm, feigning boredom around their father. Once a daddy’s boy, always a daddy’s boy, she supposed, grinning at Allison who pulls a chair for herself and Vanya, shoving a wooden stool at Klaus. Five grabs another stool, one of the shortest ones actually, shifting quickly as he tries to take place by her side. 

Compared to the Sparrows, who move more fluidly, as though they are one connected being, one shared mind, one entire ocean in a world filled with multiple seas, the Umbrella Academy stumble and bump, breaking away from each other to find space, deciding to line themselves in their numerical order in remembrance to their childhood, save for the missing member whose opposite sits on feet away. 

“Who are these assholes?” Sparrow Ben finally speaks, his voice just like Ben’s, an older Ben, a Ben who could have grown with them instead, known them instead of being ripped away by the cruel calling of death. She hears the sharp inhale of her siblings, studying the soft recoil that passes through them like a thread, traveling from Luther to Five, and then ending with her own shudder. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Diego asks, twirling a dagger between his fingers, glaring at the table of six in front of him when he’s finally recovered, snarling at the strangers who’ve managed to replace them. 

The strangers say nothing, brushing off Diego and his question. Father clears his throat, regarding Sparrow Ben first, “Introduce yourselves, children.”

* * *

“Number One.” Starts Sparrow Ben, crossing his arms as he slumps back in his chair. 

“Include your ability.” Reginald huffs, hunching over his book, “Start over.”

“Number One.” Sparrow Ben rasps, plastering a smile on his face. It’s obviously fake, the way his eyes crinkle too much and his lips spread to reveal teeth. Ben never smiled like, _ever_ , Five remembers, always exchanging lipped grins or chortling laughter. It seems their powers are still the same though, despite their humongous difference, because Sparrow Ben grins, his scar being more prominent in the dim expanses of the kitchen, something dark and evil and _so unbefitting_ of Ben as he speaks, “I release tentacles from my abdomen."

“Two.” Reginald gestures, introducing a girl with dark skin and coiled hair. She springs up, straightening her posture, before making expressions with her hands, fingers shooting words so fast Five struggles to grasp onto them. 

There's a silence that follows when she’s done, before Allison chimes in, a polite smile on her face, “Is she deaf?” 

“She looks a little like Jill, don’t you think?” Klaus interrupts, tilting his head dramatically, studying the girl known here as Number Two. 

She grins, matching his movements while Luther asks, “Who’s Jill?”

“Oh!” Klaus nods his head up and down, a silly grin on his face as he answers, “She was a girl in my cult that Ben _really_ liked.”

Sparrow Ben scowls, jerking, an attempt at menacing so bad that Five lets a snicker fall from his lips, “Yeah, she’d deaf, you got a problem?”

“What’s her power?” Diego smirks, sarcastic as he rolls his shoulders.

“Her _ability_ ,” Sparrow Ben bites, accentuating the hatred for the word power, “is that she’s fast. _Extremely_ fast. Any more questions?”

“Nope!” Klaus chimes, saluting with a grin. “No siree!”

“Three. ‘S Pleasure.” The girl nods, blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she leans forward. Sparrow Three has pale skin, — almost as pale as Vanya’s but not quite, not that it would suit her anyway. Vanya was the only person who rocked such a ghostly pale, her brown hair contradicting her entirety of her, bringing out her delicate face the most —. Sparrow Three, though, sits straight up with pride, announcing her ability, “I have telekinesis.”

“Psh,” Diego scoffs, quick to shoot her down. It was as though he was trying to pick a fight, bragging, “So do I.”

“Ok?” The girl returns, blinking in confusion. 

“You’re not all that.” Diego ridiculed. FIve stifles laughter, wondering if that was the inferiority complex talking. Or maybe it the superiority complex Diego manages to strut around at the exact same time. Either way, Diego was starting pointless arguments, arguments they didn’t have time for, and Five scowls, itching for a cup of coffee. 

Sparrow Three simply shakes her head, grinning as her hair swishes around her, amusement gracing her features, “ _Sure_. Four, your turn.”

“Four, reporting for duty!” Bubbles the blond man, tall and muscular from across their father, turning to the group of strangers who’d blipped into his home. Four smiles, pointing to the green box that hovers beside him, “See this box? It can hold an infinite amount of space.”

Vanya hums, muttering out her understanding, “So, it’s a storage unit?”

“No.” The blonde snaps, the quick change in happiness to anger causing Vanya to flinch from beside him. Sparrow Four frowns, running eyes over the small figure, darting from head to toe. Five tries not to notice the way the man stares at Vany's chest and face, gaze lingering for a little too long as he nagged, “Where’s your brain at, girl?”

Anger wells in him, resolve abandoned, that possessive feeling that reigns over him for Vanya appearing again, roaring as Five rushes to her defense, “Don’t talk to her like that.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Vanya scrambles, fidgeting with her fingers madly as she bits her bottom lip. A crack splits, blood seeping from the pink skin, and Five’s pants tighten at the way she licks her lips, dragging the pretty red over the pale pink as she apologies, “I’m sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize, Vanya.” Five reassures, acknowledging the way Vanya avoids his gaze, cheeks painted rosy red. He smirks, patting the girl on her thigh, grinning internally at that way she jumps just sightly, nodding bashfully before he pulls his hand away. "Not to these asshats."

“Whatever.” Interrupts another boy, nonchalant as he runs beige fingers through dark brown hair, glaring at the siblings before him, studying them with distaste before he introduces himself, “Name’s Number Five. Super strength.”

“You have Super strength too?!” Luther jumps up, excited, ignoring the way the room shakes when he jumps, or the way Reginald flinches as he approaches, slamming a hairy hand on the table. Sparrow Five, an insult to all Fives' everywhere, scowls, the corner of his lip lifting as he countered, “What? You gonna copy it?”

“No?” Luther questions, confused, and with every right to be, he instead compliments, “I have super strength as well. I just think it’s cool-”

“Moving on.” Reginald cuts in, ending the start of Luther's tangent. He scribbles some notes down in his book, not a single white hair moving out of place while he motions to the girl at the end of the table, “Number Six, your turn.”

The girl hums, bouncing in her seat, “Sup, fuckers!” She’s a pottymouth, Five guesses, based on the fact that no one reacts, not even Reginald. No one speaks, marveling at her introduction, until the girl laughs, olive skin glowing while her brown bob swishes as she laughs. 

The girl giggles, over exaggerating and pretentious as she stares at his siblings, slurring her words ever so slightly, “I’ve got pyrokinesis, basically. I don’t think I gotta dumb it down for ya’”

Reginald hums, twirling his pencil as he straightens his posture, gesturing to the Umbrella Academy. They straighten, collectively gulping as they ready themselves. 

“Hi.” Luther clears his throat, staring up the line, “I’m Number One. Luther. I have-”

“Super strength, you already said, Big Boy.” Diego interrupts, nudging Luther in the side. The Sparrows marvel at the altercation, probably never used to seeing such disorder. But Diego gives them no time to comment, not a single second wasted as he speaks, “Sup, the name’s Diego. Resident leader of Team Zero. I specialize in… weapons.”

“Kinky.” Sparrow Six laughs, eyes bulging from their sockets, crazed as she grins. 

“Not kinky,” Degio argued, disgust lingering as he stares, stunned by the woman before them.

“Yeaaah.” Allison drags, awkwardly glancing at their father before she throws the Spparow Academy a polite grin, “I’m Number Three. Allison. I can rumor people into doing whatever I want. Basically, reality manipulation.”

“What the fuck?” Sparrow Five curses, voicing the thought of his comrades, surprise washing over them like freezing cold water. 

“It’s a work in progress, you asshole!” Luther jumps, quick to Allison’s defense, the first to notice the way the Rumor slumps in her seat, dejected. 

Diego snickers, stifling his laughter, “Luther, bud, shut the fuck up.”

“How about you shut the fuck up Diego?” Luther snapped right back. 

Diego blinks, sassing, “Um, no.”

“Anyway!” Klaus sings, pushing everyone’s attention away from the two men who argue in the back. It works, mainly because the Sparrows are so focused on Klaus’ palm tattoos to pay the quarrel any mind. “Name’s Klaus. I can see dead people. I’ve got a lot of things going on, but that’s the main thing.”

Silence befalls them for a short while, until Five sits up, rolling his shoulders before he crosses his arm. Offering a patronizing grin, the corners of his lips lifting into a smile that brings the room to a chill, “Number Five. Five, that’s it-

“That’s your name?” Sparrow Ben mocks, cocky as he raises a single brow. 

“Yes, that’s my name, _you insensitive prick_.” It’s a crude insult he knows, but as he spits the words, barking at the replica of what used to be Ben, he finds that he doesn’t care. This Ben, this Ben was _evil_ , snarky and rude and _nothing_ like Ben at all. Five grits his teeth, flexing his jaw as he bites, "I’ve been assigned with space and time travel, but let’s say teleportation.”

Vanya sighs from beside him, shooting Five a quick concerned glance before she waves at the Sparrows, “Hi, my name’s Vanya. Number Seven-”

“Where’s Six?” Interrupts Sparrow Three, the annoying rhythmic tapping of her manicured nails against the table piercing his ears as she asks the question. 

“Hm?” Vanya hums, confused as she leans forward. 

“You’re missing a number.” Sighs Sparrow Four, flicking his wrist absent-mindedly as he asks, “Where’s your Six?”

“Our six is gone,” Allison explains, voice quiet. “Ben is our Six, or was.... your Number One.”

“What happened to him?” Ben —Sparrow Ben— rises from his slumped position to observe the Hargreeves further, clicking his tongue as he studies them.

The beast festers in Five, waking just a little bit more as Sparrow Ben’s eyes rake Vanya up and down, amusement and interest swimming in his brown orbs. Meanwhile, Klaus grins, emphasizing, “You mean what happened to _you_?”

“Freak accident.” Luther offers, short and curt. 

“It was really bad.” Diego clarifies, exhaling heavily, “Terrible, actually.”

Vanya nods, adding in her side of the story. “I wasn’t there, but your tentacles became too much and ripped you apart.” Of course, Five wasn't there either, trapped in the apocalypse, so he remains quiet, taking in the way Vanya appears hostile; scanning the Sparrow Academy one by one, blinking in and out of focus as she keeps her attention on something else. 

“Well then.” Sparrow Ben begins, frowning, "Your version of me was weak. He should stay dead.”

In seconds, they’re bouncing up, rocketing out of their seats as evident anger fills the air, tension rising to be as sharp as a knife. It’s Five who speaks, glaring at the alternate version of their dead sibling as he threatens, “Say that shit about Ben again, I dare you.”

“Oh, what are you gonna do, Number Five.” Sparrow Ben- no, not Ben. This was One. Sparrow One. This would never be Ben, would never be their sibling, not here at least. — scowls, mocking, a sadistic smile carved into his features, “Teleport to me?”

“I could very much so do that, yes.” Five counters, matching One's threat as sparks fly, apprehension rising. 

“All of you sit down.” Reginald hisses, peering over the room of adults before he lands on a squirming Vanya, opting to use her number to address her instead. “Number Seven, finish.”

“I’m Vanya. Number Seven." Vanya rushes, shifting under Reginald's harsh gaze, nervous as she introduces herself. "As far as I know, energy and sound manipulation.” 

Five knows not why she was so nervous, crumbling under pointless fear of a man who knows nothing about them, but like this, writhing closer to Five as she speaks, seeking out some sort of comfort, Five finds he doesn’t mind at all. Vanya was stronger than all of them combined, just with some unbalanced control over her powers, making her a force to be reckoned with, a weapon to be feared. He wants to hold her, reassure her, he supposes, pecking her with soft lips and whisper the extent of her capabilities, all that she was able to do into her ear. Watch her shiver under his weight, shudder as he takes her in, bathing in her numinousness. Even better, Five’s mind wanders, picturing shoving her on the table in front of them, kissing her roughly, grinding into her for the others to watch, challenging the authority that was Mr. Regionald Hargreeves. 

Their father hums, jotting down some notes before shutting the red book, a thump resounding with its closure. The old man clears his throat, steepling his fingers on display while words form, “Now, for business. Explain.”

“We time-traveled sixty years in the future and now we’re here.” Five shot, shrugging his shoulder while his siblings nod in approval. They didn’t owe the asshole anything longer than that, and if Five wasn’t going to give it, his siblings knew they wouldn’t be able to either. 

Luckily, Reginald accepts the answer, adjusting his monocle once more as he pestered, “And you haven’t aged a day, why?”

Five inhales sharply, pinching the space between his eyes in frustration. ( _Here we go again_ , explaining the workings of time travel to incompetent people, people who he couldn’t give a crap about.) He is cut off though, by a somewhat confident Vanya, leaning over in her chair to peer at their fellow Academy members, “Unless you project your consciousness to a state where you’re that age, you’re really fine. We’re supposed to be almost ninety years old, I think? But because we didn’t have a chance to project our consciousnesses into different bodies, we still look the same.”

He astounded, to say the least. They all are, sitting in stunned silence, but Five soars, heart fluttering with the thought of Vanya paying attention to his rambling, drowning himself in thoughts of Vanya remembering what he had said nearly a month ago, in the time she had been in Dallas, of course. She blushes under their gazes, bashful as she fumbles with her fingers, finding the marble flooring incredibly interesting, “Is that how that works Five?”

"Yeah, it does.” He chuckles, reminding himself of just how amazing Vanya could truly be as he praises, “Good job, V.”

Reginald hums again, ignoring the gushing that sprouts from Klaus and Allison. Their father looks over the Umbrella Academy once more, gaze darting to the Sparrows and back again, contemplating and collecting thoughts before he finds the words he was looking for; “Well, I suppose you’d all like housing.”

“Yes, please!” Klaus exclaims, slamming his hands together in prayer, begging as he adds, “And maybe my cut of the inheritance?”

“I’m here to tell you no.” Their father declared, rejecting his original set of children with a twist of his mustache. 

Diego doesn’t have it though, jumping up and slamming a fist before their father. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no, Number Two.” He clarifies, nonchalant to it all, gazing at Diego with cool eyes, “I simply do not have the room.”

Allison begins next, mouth agape as she sputters, a brittle attempt at reasoning, “You live in a mansion in the middle of New York City! You’re a billionaire! You have the space.”

“Sit, Number Three.” Reginald bites, snarling at the girl. Five wants to punch him, wants for his fist to connect with that pretentious face, wants to torture him for days on end. He buries his hatred, tucking it into a box in the back of his mind for later. Their father pauses, waiting for them to be seated, only for it to become apparent that they’re not going to minutes later, and Reginald continues, “I’m trying to offer a proposition here.”

“You’ll fight. The Sparrow Academy against the Umbrella Academy. Whoever wins shall remain in the house.”

“But Father-” Sparrow One opined, immediately interrupted.

“You’re not to fight me on this Number One.” Reginald scowls, running his eyes over both sets of his built Academy; one from a reality already destroyed, and the other created in an attempt to save this one, “I have full confidence in your abilities.”

“Yes, Father.” The Sparrow Academy echo, blindly accepting in unison as their voices melt into one another. 

Before they know it, the Sparrow Academy is standing in front of the Umbrella Academy — Diego was right, Five realizes, Team Zero did sound better—, decked out in black and red jumpsuits, their uniform reflecting brightly against the summer sun. Five wants to curse, exhaustion carved between his bones, but gathers in a stance, shooting Vanya a wink, before they’re off, fighting a group of strangers who’ve managed to replace them. 

* * *

  
  


Vanya sputters, coughing up some blood as Five lifts her head, cradling her in his arms. _He’s so gentle. So gentle_ and Vanya was _so tired_ , so tired of fighting all the time, of running, of him looking at her as though she was the world, big and bright and beautiful, but so dangerous and fragile- and you get the point. 

She’d been fighting Sparrow Ben, tumbling and wrestling with him, grappling his tentacles with the extents of her powers, white vines shooting from her in their exchange of power. It’d been quick, sudden, too fast before she even had the chance to notice it. One moment she was levitating a small meter of the ground, milky white coating her eyes as she lets a beam escape her, and the next, she’s crumbling from where she floats, a part of her flesh missing, ripped out from her left side. 

She’s fading, the black slowly seeping in as Five shakes her, the most pained expression she’s seen on him so far on his face. It’s so quiet now, so quiet that Vanya feels as though she’s floating, drifting off in a space where only she exists, surrounded by nothingness instead of this house that’s haunted her on the worst of days. Everything is so silent when it’s not supposed to be, and Vanya wonders if this was how Sparrow Two hears the world, knowing that what happened around her wasn’t supposed to be so tranquil. Five’s pink lips open and close, forming words that look like her name, but she can’t hear, ears flooded with a thick liquid that seems too close to something that’s supposed to belong inside of her, not outside.

She’s too scared to look though, too scared to focus on the way he holds her side, pain shooting through her as crimson red covers his fingers, screaming profanities as he pulls her closer to his chest. 

There's no time for this, she realizes, no time for him to save her as the world bursts around them, fire shooting from the palms of Sparrow Six. Five blinks them away, clawing at her in desperation as he drops to his knees in the corner of the courtyard. He’s sobbing, she notes, hair frayed, the black strands sticking out in a disorder you’d never expect from him as he clings to her. It’s too late, Vanya knows, too late for anything after this, her limbs already numb, the pain spreading to her middle. 

Vanya won’t go down without a fight though, she’d make fucking sure of it. So, shakily, she brings a bloodied palm to Five’s cheek, smiling with tight lips at the way he pauses, panic swimming in his orbs as he makes contact with her. Blue-green meets faded russet, and Vanya coughs, blood seeping out of her once more, spilling and clogging her chest. He looks so desperate, rocking them back and forth, the same way he had nearly a month ago, back when they were in their two thousand nineteen and their father had just died. It’s somewhat bittersweet, Vanya wants to laugh. 

She can barely hear, but she knows what she wants to say, can control enough of her vocals to make sure the words are released from the confinements of her esophagus. So she starts, struggling to keep her eyes open as she rubs a thumb over his jaw, “Five.”

“Five, listen to me.” That catches his attention, it seems, and he’s hovering over her, begging for her to keep her eyes open. She smiles, ignoring the confusion that settles over him, croaking with a worn voice, “I can’t hear you.”

His brows furrow, coming together in peaked surprise. He looks so _broken_ , so afraid that Vanya wants to hug him; wants to hold him just one last time, wants to assure him that everything's gonna be okay as she fades away, “I’m not gonna make it, Five. But, you already know that.”

He shakes his head, frantic as his short hair flies around him, clinging to her while she lets out a shaky breath, “It’s gonna be okay, promise.” 

He mutters some words, words she can’t process as her head pounds, his face coming down in front of her own, shading her from the light of the sun, and for such a bright day, Vanya imagines the clouds that hover above them, miserable as she attempts to lighten the mood, “I have no clue what you’re saying but, I do imagine you’re mad at me.” 

She chuckles at the way he shakes, shooting the statement down immediately. She wants to kiss him, she finds, cheeks lighting up just slightly from under him as she eyes the pink of his lips, the way he digs into her shoulder embedded into her skin. She coughs as she speaks, a clot of blood making its way to the surface as she moaned, “I… I’m really sorry I don’t know how to control my powers.”

Five’s eyes well, tears brimming his cheeks, flowing down at a remarkable speed. It’s weird to see, but the way his orbs become glassy with transparent liquid reminds Vanya of a real ocean, specifically the area where water will meet sand, before the ocean will fade into something deeper, something colder as she drowns just a little bit more. He speaks, voice catching with the lump in his throat before he’s swallowing heavily. Vanya laughs, the action sending pain wracking through her body as he shakes in his arms, “Why are you crying? You could at least send me off with a smile.”

“I’ll miss you.” Vanya studies the way Five chokes, shoulders shaking as he bites his bottom lip, pushing back his cries. Vanya can’t stand to see him like this, desperate and aching in front of her, so she turns away, opting to stare at the plants littered with her blood instead. He doesn’t like that apparently, forcing her chin to move to look at him. She smiles, eyes crinkling as she winces through the pain, “You were a terrible husband, you know. What kind of husband leaves for seventeen years?”

“I wish I could’ve been your wife longer. That’s probably wrong, huh?” He’s refusing again, chest heaving as he blinks rapidly, pushing away tears. Vanya wants to cry, she finds, wants to cry once again, even though she’s been shedding tears non-stop since landing in 1963. Still, though, she pushes down the bitter taste of iron in her mouth, fueling herself with the pain that comes with rejection instead, “Considering we’re siblings,vyou probably don’t like me like that.”

“Remember when we got married?” Vanya reminisces, palming at the wound on her side left, wincing at the way Five comes around to cup her left cheek again, connecting her right side with his chest as he pulls her close. his muscle filled arm holds her back steady as she giggles, short of breath, as she continues, finding the way his jaw clenches somewhat amusing as she slurs, “As children under the tree?”

He nods, quivering as he continues to rock her to and fro, ignoring the way the Academy struggles from behind them, too wrapped up in her to notice the say boulders fly around above them. She wants to scream at him, wants to remind him that they have to fight to survive here, that she isn't as important as their future. Instead, she lifts a shaky finger, trembling in his tight grasp, voice light, “There’s our tree right there, Five. Still standing, too.”

“You know, we never did finish the ceremony.” He nods, frantic, hurried with the way he rocks, shaking as he attempts to keep her going, Vanya chuckles, trying to imagine what she sounds like, the world quiet around her. It’s fucking _terrible_ , she notes, too quiet for her liking. Vanya does hope though, the voice in the back of her mind somewhat muddled, that she sounds just the least bit tempting, “Usually, vows end with kisses.” 

Vanya doesn’t give Five a single second to pull away, ignoring the way her muscles scream at her quick movements as she brings their lips together. Warmth spreads throughout her, shooting through her with the way Five stills and relaxes, before he’s sighing into her mouth, moving his lips in time with hers. The world fades from around them as she shuts her eyes, reveling in the heat of him. She’d been waiting for this, begging for this for seventeen godforsaken years, and this was the last thing she’d be getting before she goes, her reward for putting up with all the bullshit thrown at her. 

It’s so quiet, so fucking quiet but so hot, so warming and fulfilling as Vanya squirms, unable to breathe as Five clings to her, kissing her with a desperation she’d never expected, breaking away whilst a red spreads across his cheeks, blooming from the intensity of their interaction. 

She pulls away, red painting his lips and Vanya finds she likes them like that, marked with the remnants of her. Five’s brows are scrunched together, furrowed as he caresses her cheek, his burning palm warming her skin, worry taking over his features as he hovers over her, gripping her tightly, and it is then when he lifts his view, bordering somewhere along the lines of furious and distressed. — She tries to push down the sharp pain that always comes with rejection, but only finds herself wincing as her heart clenches. —

He snaps his head to somewhere behind him, where the battle rages on with an intense ferocity, screaming words she can’t comprehend, the world silent around her, as though she’s trapped in an impenetrable bubble. 

Allison scrambles over, Klaus and Diego following in soon after, calling over a Luther who holds off Sparrow’s Four. The man is already shirtless, rips adorning his figure, blood and dirt painting the entirety of him as he screams something back. Diego doesn’t tolerate that, it seems, shooting up as blood seeps from her wound, piling around them as the rest of the Sparrows’ unconscious bodies are littered somewhere around them. 

She feels stupid, suddenly, not at the fact that she had kissed someone who viewed her as a sister and only a sister, but at the fact that even with such an amazing power, such a talented power, she was unable to defeat someone with enough practice, even if this skewed version of Ben had enough practice to topple the world. She laughs bitterly, but nothing enters her ears, slowly slipping away. Her siblings look down at her, lips moving so fast she can’t track their movements as crismon spills out of her, splatter on Klaus who recoils, Allison flailing as she pulls out a napkin, pushing Klaus away from her as she grips Vanya’s hand.

Sissy must miss her, huh? Harlan, too, Vanya thinks, images of the pair filling her vision. Imagine that. Only two hours ago they were in 1963, living lives none of them belonged in, and she was holding their bodies, sobbing as their newly permanent cold lingered on her. They were always so warm too, compared to Vanya’s cold, and right now, her siblings are warm, burning while she freezes, shaking as Sparrow One laughs in the distance, making a grand gesture with his hands that Vanya has no choice but to think of the villains in movies. 

Her family is sobbing, but Vanya’s mind grows darker and darker. All the while, they seem farther and farther away, until eventually, Vanya sinks into the pain, allowing it to consume her as her breath fades. 

She is okay now, Vanya wants to smile at a breaking Five as the numbness expands through the whole of her body. She doesn’t have to fight now, not anymore, and that is all that she could ask for. _No more running, no more hiding, no more waiting, and Vanya is okay now_. She’s alright now, so why were her siblings so panicked? 

Vanya smiles, the lifting of her lips and the crinkle of her eyes becoming difficult to maintain as her energy slips further away. She smiles, ignorant to the way her siblings scream, unable to hear their echoing sobs, and as the world fades to black, she swears she can see a flash of blue. 

* * *

“Vanya?! Vanya!” Five calls, shouting at the top of his lungs as her eyes shut slowly, her breath ceasing, easy to tell with the lack of the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest. She’s so small compared to him, so tiny as he holds her. Soon, he’s slapping her cheek, anything to get her to wake, the pale off her skin becoming even paler as each second passes, the clicking of his watch ringing in his ear as the world slows. 

Five is yelling, hysterical as he roars with desperation, begging for Vanya to open her eyes, to live, to fucking _wake up_. The tears pour, uncontrollable as he sobs, a wreck before his family, holding onto a girl who no longer responds, succumbing to the void, withdrawing to a space in which she’ll exist without him once again. 

Allison is screaming, Klaus sobbing as he stares at something just behind Five. Meanwhile, Diego and Luther argue in the distance, shouting over each other as life slowly trickles away from his Vanya. Something lights with him, his resolve strengthening as he ceases his panicked ministrations, the thought of simply existing in a world without Vanya too painful to bear. 

Sparrow Ben laughs, an empty shell of what used to be Ben, a mere replica of him, for Ben would never do this. Would never hurt his siblings, would never hurt _Vanya_ , who he had adored as children, his adoration spreading to their teen years. Five scowls, blinking away in a flash of blue light, fist colliding with the ugly mug of Sparrow One, rage gathering in him as he wrestles with the damaged version of their brother. Even if this Ben, all of these Sparrow children, really, even if they were products of their father, — of a Reginald who had chosen to abandon his original experiments, chosen to instead raise separate children, — a father who had twisted and manipulated them into believing he was all high and mighty, no one touched Vanya. _No one touched Vanya._

It is a quick exchange, a competition between talent. Sparrow Ben is quick, skilled as he throws a punch towards Five ribs, and even if he is the only one standing out of Reginald's new sorry excuse of a family, Five was quicker, stronger, _better_. He has spent thirteen years being groomed into a fighter by his asshole guardian, then the next fifty or so in purgatory, fighting and scrambling for his life in a hell none of these people would ever be able to imagine, (except maybe the woman they’d just brutally slaughtered,) and then the rest in an organization trained to murdered, principled and polished into a killing machine, all for the maintenance of a timeline Five’s managed to screw a million times over. 

He throws a jab at Sparrow Ben’s neck, hitting the space between his shoulder, just where the arm begins, watching as Sparrow Ben crumbles before him, falling onto his knees and then onto his side, laying before him with the rest of this world’s Academy. He wants to crumble too, sink on his knees as he wallows in his sorrow, scream at the sky to bring back Vanya. But there’s no time for that, no time to submerge himself in self-pity, no time to cry for a reality he refuses to accept. 

Instead, he walks over to his siblings, blinking inside the dark quiet of the house, grabbing the damaged briefcase before blinking to the courtyard once again, stomach churning at the extensive abuse of his powers. For Vanya though, for Vanya, he’d push against his limits, bring her back no matter how many tries it would take. 

“Number Five, wait.” A voice comes, snappy and prideful. It’s plagued him his whole life, reminding him of his failures every day he was trapped in the apocalypse, leaving him terrified in the shattered cadaver of the world. 

He turns, sniffing as he tried to control his breathing, “What the fuck do you want, old man?”

“Though my disappointment of an Academy has showcased their full abilities here, I must notify you. There’s no saving her.” Reginald adjusts his blazer, peering at a grown Five with a raised brow, nonchalant to all the torture he’s inflicted. Five imagines connecting his fist with the old man’s face the same way he had Sparrow Ben, only to restrain himself as the man speaks, “You know that.”

“There is a way to save her.” Five snarls, running through the equations in his mind. There was a way to save Vanya, a way to prevent her from ever leaving him, Five just had to find it. He glares at his father, — no, Reginald, the cult leader who had maimed him and his siblings into a bunch of slaves, a bunch of lab rats for a temporary experiment,— barking, “I just have to turn back time.”

“And do you know how to do that, Number Five?” Reginald clicks his tongue, fiddling with his stupid monocle, sneering with a tone only a child would use, “There’s a reason you got stuck in 1963.”

Five wonders how he didn’t realize until now, how he didn’t see the inferiority complex Mr. Reginald Hargreeves hides behind. How he didn’t see the way the proclaimed Monocle coiled away from his own children, his own experiments, avoiding them at any chance he’d gotten. _Daddy dearest was afraid of them,_ Five leaps, sneering as he blips in front of the man, observing the way the old-timer flinches away, startled by Five’s boldness, “1963 was a mix-up, you asshole. Don’t talk about us like you know us.”

“There’s no way to save her.” He reiterates, fixing his messy appearance. “You’ll just be transferring her dead body over different realities, Number Five. You know that.”

“Then I’ll find another one.” Five glares, sneering, “One where _this_ hasn’t happened yet. It’s not dimension travel, you asshole. It’s _time_. _They’re different_.”

Reginald frowns, disgust marring his features, staring down at Five as though he was nothing but a speck of dust, “They’re inherently the same, Number Five. They go hand in hand.”

“I’ll jump as many times as I need to.” Five objected, backing away from Reginald as he holds up a thick, single finger, “Fuck you.” 

“Luther, grab Vanya.” He spits, scowling at Reginald who pours over his notes, scribbling down rushed words as he pays no mind to the people who’ve defeated his precious children, his oh-so-amazing of child soldiers. “Everyone else, grab me.”

Luther nods, lifting up a bleeding Vanya once again, flashes of the early hours of April first intruding his mind, of a Vanya dressed in white and a shattering moon. He inhales sharply, rolling his shoulders as he grips the briefcase with a familiar tightness, eyeing the wet that lingers on sniffing Allison’s cheeks. Snorting at the way she clings to Klaus, who sobs into her shoulder, he avoids their gaze, licking the remnants of blood from his lips.

* * *

Soon they are jumping again, their stay only lasting a short span of hours, clinging to each other as Five’s heart thrums. The rapid beating resounds in his chest, pounding in both his head and ears, overshadowing the exclamations of his siblings as they fall through the universe for a third time. 

He’d rip the universe up for Vanya, slash at it with an axe if it meant staying with her, growing old with her, maybe even live as long as she’d like once he gets time to travel down. Spontaneous wind whirls around him, causing hair and clothes to ripple and fly as they fall farther, blue portal expanding deeper and deeper into the vast expanses of reality. Blood flows back into Vanya at an incredibly slow pace, but _it_ _isn't_ _enough_ , isn't good enough for her to live again, isn't good enough for her to come back to him. 

The universe rips, expanding and shrinking, convulsing under pressure, finally bending to the will of a man exhausted from fighting, all because it had ripped his most precious possession away from him first. Alchemy doesn’t work like that, he remembers telling Vanya, for it was meant to be the equivalent exchange between humanity and the universe, the trade of one thing for another. 

Vanya was priceless, worth the universe itself, actually, maybe even more. She was a goddess among men, angelic, every breath she’d take more stunning than the last. She’d created music with her fingers, staging the infinite tune of the world, her song floating within her, a memory of a promise of paradise. Nothing would ever be worth Vanya, _not_ powers, _not_ world peace, _not even the permanent disappearance of the apocalypse_.

Five pushes through the world, dragging his siblings along for the ride, a blue sky all that’s left of them as they teleport out of there, ready to fight for his _wife_.

He blinks, clenching his fists as blue whirs, circling Team Zero in a grand exchange of authority with a being who couldn’t give a single shit, furious as he presses against the grand scheme.

* * *

The universe would regret every ripping Vanya away from him. He’d make sure of it. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, homegirl's dead. Uhhh, whoops. Sorry not sorry, I've always wanted to write a someone dies fic. Did I rip your heart out? I hope I did. And even if I didn't I hope you enjoyed Day four with me. 
> 
> Truth be told, the Sparrow Academy prompt kicked my ass and I honestly hate this piece, I feel as though the scenes could've been better, or longer, and I wanted to make Vanya feel unexplainable pain, but whatever. 
> 
> (Also, let me rant about Sparrow Ben for a second. I hate that motherfucker. He's so ugly, I hate him, gosh I hate him. I don't want whatever heavy emo muskrat they're planning on giving us, I want my sarcastic and soft emo Ben.)
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy that, and uh, yeah. You'll see Vanya tomorrow for day five, don't worry. Also, don't hate me, please. I gave you one kiss scene to make up for it. 
> 
> Peace out!✌️


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